


push & pull

by LongLastingForevermore



Series: 몸 (BODY) [3]
Category: Monsta X (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Clubbing, Flirting, Kim Namjoon | RM & Ahn Hyojin | LE Are Best Friends, Kim Namjoon | RM is a Little Shit, Kim Namjoon | RM-centric, M/M, Never Mind A Bit Of Plot Forced Itself Into The Narrative, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drinking, Semi-Public Sex, This Was Supposed To Be 1k Yet Here We Are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LongLastingForevermore/pseuds/LongLastingForevermore
Summary: He spots him from across the packed room and finds himself unable to look away, completely transfixed by the dancing figure.Or, alternatively: a night out, and namjoon is lots of things but not sorry
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Series: 몸 (BODY) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1186946
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	push & pull

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfi_sama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfi_sama/gifts).



> to my darling [wolfi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfi_sama/pseuds/flokatae): HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! please enjoy this trainwreck of a oneshot, my dear, and bask with me in this lovely pairing's existence (that only you & i and a small handful of other strange cats ship uwu)
> 
> this one's for you ♥
> 
> title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdWAZcG23mk) (seriously, do yourself a favour and listen to it, you won't regret it) (i recommend listening to it on loop through this story lol) (also, stan kard y'all)

It’s close to midnight when Namjoon is pulled from his intense staring contest with the bottom of his glass by a chipper voice addressing him, and he raises his head to meet the expectant face of the bartender that’s been serving him since he sat down at the bar about an hour ago.

An overfull shot glass is carefully pushed in front of him.

“Uhm, I didn’t—I don’t think I ordered this,” says Namjoon intelligently, looking away from his beer and eyeing the offered drink with suspicion. The sweet smell of Amaretto and coffee liqueur is, admittedly, incredibly tempting, especially compared to the decidedly mediocre brand of beer he’s been sipping on for the last 20 minutes, but still; there must be a rule somewhere in the _How Not To Be A Complete Dumbass_ handbook about not accepting drinks with dubious origins, and Namjoon, if anything, enjoys not being a dumbass on occasion.

“On the house,” says the bartender, a flirty little smile on his face. His tight t-shirt reveals intricate tattoos on his torso and forearms when he crosses his arms in front of his chest, flexing a little bit. “From me to you, ‘cause you looked kinda lonely.”

“What’s this s’posed to be?”

The bartender leans with his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his knuckles. The septum ring in his nose catches the light as his smile widens and Namjoon is briefly reminded of a bunny: “‘S a Screaming Orgasm.”

Taken by surprise, Namjoon pauses and blinks once, shot glass delicately held between thumb and middle finger. Eyebrows raised, his confused smile widens slightly. Now he’s sure he’s being hit on, and the mere idea comes as a bit of a shock. He’s not used to it anymore. “Come again—?”

“The name of the shot—,” says the bartender quickly, flustered as his flirty façade crumbles like a house of cards under Namjoon’s amused puzzlement, “—is Screaming Orgasm.”

Exhaling a soft _ah_ of understanding, Namjoon lifts up the glass and brings it to his lips, tongue peeking out to lick at the sticky rim.

“ _À votre santé_ , then,” he says, quirking a single eyebrow as he throws the shot back without breaking eye-contact with the bartender. The hard liquor burns its way down his throat, warming up his belly and leaving a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue as he flips the small shot glass and leaves it upside-down on the counter. “‘S good, I liked it,” he praises, a lazy smile curving his lips, the tip of his index finger tracing the rim of his tall beer glass.

The bartender _preens_ for a few seconds before he visibly reins himself in and swaps his beaming grin for a calculated cocky smirk. “Thought so,” he says, tilting his head briefly. He licks his lips deliberately, and says: “Y’ know, that ain’t the only kind of screami— _oof_ —”

Before he can actually finish his sentence, the other person manning the bar slides up to him to elbow him in the ribs with more enthusiasm than is strictly needed, hissing something Namjoon doesn’t quite manage to catch due to the loud music; the message is crystal clear, though.

His bartender can only offer Namjoon a sheepish smile, awkwardly holding his ribs with one hand and using the other to tuck a few stray curls behind his blushing ears.

“Gotta go, duty calls.”

With a silly little wave of his fingers, Namjoon flashes his dimples at the young man, laughing internally when those doe eyes widen in surprise and his flush extends from the bartender’s ears to tint his cheeks too. Amused, he looks away and taps his fingers on the bar to _‘súbele mambo pa' que mi gata prenda lo' motores’_ until a shadow crowds into his space.

He looks up a second too late, Hyojin already there with a wicked little smirk curling her mouth, a cocktail glass in one manicured hand while the other bumps Namjoon’s on the bar.

She laughs when Namjoon retreats a little, pink lips kissing the mouth of her glass for a long sip.

“Why the long face, puppy? Not feelin’ it tonight?” she asks, leaning in closer and quirking a sharp eyebrow. She has to raise her voice to be heard over the loud music.

“‘S not that,” replies Namjoon, fiddling with his nigh-empty glass of beer as Hyojin presses up against his side, arm slung across his shoulders.

“Oh? What’s got you lookin’ like a lost baby animal, then? More so than usual, I mean.”

“Noona,” whines Namjoon reproachfully. “Don’t be a—”

“Prick?” Hyojin smirks. She sips at her drink again, a cascade of rainbow lights flickering off her face. “Yeah, well. I sort of am, puppy— you know that.”

“You could at least tryna pretend otherwise,” says Namjoon, unimpressed, yelping when Hyojin pinches his earlobe in mean retaliation.

“No point— ‘s too much effort,” replies Hyojin, waving her drink around dismissively. Golden liquid sloshes over her hand, but she doesn’t even flinch. “‘Sides, ‘s not like I’m a _bad_ person, right—? Don’t answer that,” she quickly interrupts Namjoon when he opens his mouth to speak up. “—you’ll only hurt my feelings,” she sniffs, all self-importantly. The mirth in her eyes belies the haughty purse of her lips.

“As if anyone could.”

Hyojin shrugs casually, looking around. Her teeth catch her glossy lip, the shine of a yellow spotlight cutting over her cheek and making her glow like a goddess. Namjoon watches her swallow, muscles moving in time with _‘tú me debe' algo y lo sabes’_ , before Hyojin turns back to him. “No, seriously, why aren’tcha dancin’?”

With a little sardonic curl to his mouth, Namjoon lifts his empty beer glass and shakes it in front of Hyojin’s face, no words needed.

“Don’t sass me, puppy,” she growls, and tugs playfully at Namjoon’s hair, laughing at the surprised little moan that escapes Namjoon’s lips. “Shameless,” she sighs, shaking her head fondly. A few seconds later she presses her mouth to Namjoon’s ear, whispering: “Talkin’ ‘bout shamelessness— don’t look now, but the cute bartender’s been watchin’ you _aaaall_ night. What didya do to have him so wrapped ‘round your pinkie finger, hm?”

“I think he’s lookin’ ‘cause you’re all over me,” Namjoon points out, hiding a smile in Hyojin’s long hair. He’s been aware of the bartender’s attention on him since he sat down, but he’s also fairly sure that the furtive glances have increased tenfold since Hyojin joined him, draping herself over his pliant body.

“Nonsense,” says Hyojin pragmatically. “He’s been lookin’ at you like a man starved for weeks looks at a free buffet of his all-time favourite foods. He wants to eat you _whole_.”

“…noona, what the _fuck_.”

“I’m just _sayin’_ —!”

“You’re just sayin’ bullshit, as usual— although… he _did_ give me a Screaming Orgasm.”

“ _Did_ he now, hm?”

“As in the shot, you absolute fiend, getcha mind outta the gutter. _‘On the house’_ , he said,” says Namjoon, jostling Hyojin with his shoulder, only succeeding in making her giggle against his temple. “From him to me, ‘cause I looked lonely, apparently.”

“Bet he wanted to keep you _company_ and give you the other kind of screaming orgasm, too… puppy, I swear to everything that’s holy. The only thing the kid could’ve done that would be more obvious than _that_ would be like, holding up a flashing neon sign sayin’ somethin’ like _‘I wanna rearrange your guts’_ or some shit.”

“You’re so fuckin’ crass, noona.”

“Crass, maybe, but _definitely_ not wrong.”

“I hate you,” announces Namjoon dispassionately, letting his arm wrap around Hyojin’s midriff to pinch at the thin skin of her bare waist.

Hyojin cackles like a witch. “Get in line, buckaroo.”

“Fuck off—”

Unsticking herself from Namjoon’s side, Hyojin pats his shoulder in a way that would almost come across as condescending if it weren’t for the soft look in her eyes. “Ah, he’s gonna be so disappointed when you don’t end up taking him home tonight,” she says, adjusting her croptop. Feeling childish, Namjoon slips a finger into the waistband of her fishnets and makes it snap against her skin. With a warning _tsk_ , Hyojin slaps his hand away and focuses her attention on the bartender — who’s starting to look like a bunny caught in the headlights, clearly suspecting what (or, more specifically, _who_ ) Hyojin and Namjoon are talking about —, calling him over as she smirks dangerously, sharp nails tapping on the counter.

By heavenly intervention or some other miracle, she mercifully takes pity on the kid and simply orders up two drinks, strong Hennessey that fills Namjoon’s nose before they even reach Hyojin’s hands. She shoves one at him, smiling with her teeth biting the edge of her mouth.

“Thanks, noona, you spoil me,” says Namjoon, accepting the glass with a grateful little nod. “Anyway, I reckon dancin’ right now would only be considered foreplay, and I’m not ready to go home just yet, y’ know. The night’s still young!”

“Don’t be daft,” snorts Hyojin, rolling her eyes. She sips off one of the drinks, pink lips shiny when she grins. “At least dance a few rounds before you decide to jump ship to get fucked, hm? Get your funk on, live a little, have _fun_ —”

“Getting fucked is _plenty_ fun, thank you very much,” sniffs Namjoon, before grimacing when the taste of the alcohol overwhelms his taste buds. “Gross—”

“You’re such a pillow princess, I swear—”

“Damn straight I am!”

“—and there’s abso-fucking-lutely nothin’ wrong with that, puppy,” agrees Hyojin indulgently, patting his cheek fondly. “Am just _sayin’_ —”

Whatever she was going to say gets lost in laughter when Namjoon pouts at her, conjuring up his best rendition of Bambi eyes, and Hyojin can’t help but tease his pout with her thumb, softly digging her nail into his lower lip before releasing it. Shaking her head, she quickly chases her chuckles with one long drink, covering a cough from the headrush with another laugh. She ignores Namjoon’s sharp glare, pressing her now empty glass into his palm, her elbow nudging at his ribs, a gentle grin pressed over her mouth. “Just— go dance, puppy.”

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows but Hyojin just gives him a simple shrug, stealing Namjoon’s own glass and downing the last of his drink in seconds before scooting around the bar, losing herself in the crowd as she strides off into the throbbing mess of bodies on the dance floor.

He looks at her back until she disappears between two tall girls, and then he returns his attention back to his beer glass, mulling over her words.

His teeth nibble on the corner of his bottom lip when he twists to trace his eyes over the dance floor again. Sweaty bodies pressed together, hands in the air, lips purposely staining a stranger’s skin pink. It’s a supernova of cheap alcohol spilling and the thunder of a heavy beat.

Namjoon is nursing his third beer of the night, propped up on the bar’s counter, when he spots Hyunwoo from across the packed room.

He spots him from across the packed room and finds himself unable to look away, completely transfixed by the dancing figure.

He stands out, is the thing.

It’s not even because of the way he’s dressed, in spite of the distracting way the uppermost buttons of his silk shirt have been undone, showing more glistening golden skin than could be considered proper in _any_ situation.

It’s not because of the way he moves, either, even though the hypnotising sway of his body to the music’s seductive rhythm could bring lesser men to their knees.

(Namjoon’s own knees feel weak when the changing pace of the beats elicits a particularly sharp thrust of those hips, and for a moment, Namjoon truly fears his legs will give in under his own weight. Thank _fuck_ he’s seated).

It’s not the way Hyunwoo’s pink tongue peeks from the corner of his parted mouth, either, swiping over his lower lip every now and then to leave a glistening coat of moisture that doubles as a lipgloss, shining every time he moves his head this way and that, catching the light in a most delicious manner that makes Namjoon want to _taste_ and chase with his own mouth.

These things only add to his allure, of course, but what truly demands people’s attention is the way he carries himself — an easy sort of confidence borne from an innate understanding of oneself; this man feels comfortable in his own skin, and he oozes self-assuredness, wears it like a perfectly tailored garment, like a second skin, an extension of his body and an intrinsic part of his inner self at the same time.

It’s—

_magnetic_.

Unable — and unwilling — to resist this siren’s call, Namjoon’s fingers curl tightly around the rim of his glass, mouth curving up. His tongue swipes along his bottom lip slowly, and he eases his beer onto the bar before pushing away, ignoring the interested eyes he gets from a group of girls. He pulls away from a more shameless man tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, shrugging off another because he doesn’t have eyes for them; any of them. He blinks at the way the strobe lights dance off of his eyes, tongue licking out again to wet his upper lip as he curves around the corner of the bar, wading through the throng of dancing people without looking away for a single second.

He grins, the chase a little exhilarating, flicks another button open on his shirt before he swallows the thick lump in his throat and finds himself in front of Hyunwoo. Their gazes meet, and Hyunwoo smirks with dark eyes, a red-bitten mouth, sweat sliding off his skin like collected raindrops down the storm drain.

They can’t take their eyes away from each other.

Namjoon’s fingers dig into the shape of Hyunwoo’s hipbones, edging his body up closer to Hyunwoo’s until the warmth from his body has Namjoon’s world slipping a little to the left.

“Hiya, handsome,” Hyunwoo rasps into Namjoon’s ear, warm breath fanning over Namjoon’s damp skin as he leans in to nose at the sensitive spot behind Namjoon’s ear.

“Hiya back,” replies Namjoon, shuddering when a strong hand pulls on his shirt, untucking it from underneath the neon orange belt keeping his black jeans up around his hips. Before he even has time to make a witty remark about _eagerness_ and _guess you’re just that impatient, huh_ , there’s a big hand splayed over his stomach, right across his solar plexus.

Hyunwoo’s other hand tangles in Namjoon’s mullet, pulling on the long violet strands to make his neck arch and immediately pressing his lips against the column of Namjoon’s throat, teeth catching on the thin skin at his Adam’s apple.

“ _Fuck_ —,” gasps Namjoon, eyes falling shut at the thrilling feeling of lovebites being sucked into his skin. His own grasp on Hyunwoo’s hips tightens slightly, anchoring him to reality as nails dig into supple flesh, and suddenly a muscled thigh is being pushed between his own.

Sparks make their way up his spine, adding to the tingle in his scalp when Hyunwoo pulls again to move his head just so—

A wet tongue swipes over his lips, sliding past Namjoon’s teeth and tracing the roof of his mouth playfully; the kiss is lewd and delicious and filthy, a complete disregard for the crowd around them that disappears into the background.

It’s a thrill, knowing that they’re being watched, _feeling_ the weight of stares on their intertwined bodies. Namjoon can feel himself grow hard against Hyunwoo’s thigh.

“Exhibitionist,” whispers Hyunwoo into Namjoon’s ear when they briefly disconnect their mouths to catch their breath, chests heaving in synchronisation. Huffing in amusement, he pushes his thigh more firmly against Namjoon’s erection, eliciting a soft mewl.

“Pot, meet kettle,” snarks Namjoon, hiding his blushing face in Hyunwoo’s shoulder, biting down on the tendon there in protest. White-hot shame lights him up from the inside, blending perfectly with the smugness that comes with the knowledge that he has the most desired person in the room pressed to his front. Namjoon feels _invincible_.

“That’s fair,” says Hyunwoo, and kisses him again.

They’re smiling into each other, teeth clicking together clumsily, but neither of them care, giggling like teenagers sharing their first kiss; exploring hands slide over shoulders, curling into fabric and pressing into sculpted muscle and supple flesh.

Hyunwoo still has a firm grip on Namjoon’s hair and uses it to once more manoeuvre his head to the side, tracing a trail of kisses from Namjoon’s mouth to the hollow of his throat, lips dragging slightly. His other hand feels like a brand on the small of Namjoon’s back, hot and heavy as it applies strength subtly, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh.

They’re both hard now.

With a little playful nudge and following the beat of the song playing now, Hyunwoo grinds his hips against Namjoon’s, choking out a grunt as their cocks press against each other, trapped between their bodies.

“How _bold_ —,” gasps Namjoon, exhaling a tiny keen as teeth nibble on his skin. He slips both hands under Hyunwoo’s shirt, letting his fingers dip into the waistband of Hyunwoo’s underwear to dig into the soft skin of his ass. “You gonna get us off right here?” he taunts, feeling how what little is left of his oft-faulty brain-to-mouth filter dissolves entirely in a warm pool of want and desire. “You wanna let everyone see how good you’re makin’ me feel, huh?”

Emboldened by Hyunwoo’s muffled moan against his neck and his own complete lack of inhibitions when turned on, Namjoon keeps talking into Hyunwoo’s ear, making sure he can hear him.

“You wanna stake your claim where— _fuck_ , that’s good, don’t stop, oh _Christ_ — where everyone can see?”

The thigh between Namjoon’s legs twitches as their hips continue to move together to the music’s rhythm, giving away how worked up Hyunwoo’s getting.

“That’s right, innit?” says Namjoon, feeling a smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth. “You’re _possessive_ —”

“No—”

“—yes, you _are_ ,” interrupts Namjoon, unable to keep his delight from bleeding into his words and voice. How did he get so lucky? He nuzzles into Hyunwoo’s blond hair, presses his cheek into curls that are damp with perspiration. “‘S that why you’re holdin’ me so tightly?”

Hyunwoo’s grip tightens even further, if possible, and Namjoon giggles at the unexpected show of petulance.

In the background, the song that’s playing blends into another one, slowing down to a more seductive rhythm that makes Hyunwoo tremble before his body automatically shifts its weight to stay on beat, movements as smooth as silk. Namjoon allows his own body to be gently coaxed into their shared dance, catching the almost imperceptible cues given by Hyunwoo’s large hands on his back; once again they fit into each other like puzzle pieces, slotting together seamlessly.

“Kiss me,” demands Namjoon hoarsely, forehead pressing against Hyunwoo’s, breaths mingling in the scant centimetres separating their lips. “ _C’mon_ —”

“Beg,” growls Hyunwoo, and the silly little show of assertiveness has Namjoon’s knees feeling decidedly weak; nevertheless, no matter the state of his knees, Namjoon is too much of a little shit to give in so easily. Mama Kim raised a well-mannered boy, but no amount of politeness can completely erase the absolute _brat_ that is Kim Namjoon.

“Beg? For a little kiss?” he teases, wetting his lower lip. Their faces are so close together that Namjoon’s tongue also ‘incidentally’ swipes over Hyunwoo’s own lips, eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise. “Doesn’t seem very fair, does it—”

Hyunwoo doesn’t use words to respond to Namjoon’s provocation, leaning forward to finally press their mouths together once more, but Namjoon smiles impishly and leans back, staying just out of reach as Hyunwoo chases his lips automatically.

A beat of breathless motionlessness, and then—

The shackles that subdued them both break with a snap, and whatever little restraint they had left dissolves like sugar in hot water.

Namjoon laughs in unrestrained delight as he’s dragged through the packed crowd, anticipation boiling in his veins and cock painfully hard against the soft fabric of his Versace jockstrap. The look that Hyunwoo gives him over his shoulder is dark and ravenous, and Namjoon’s stomach clenches with readiness.

Lights flash all around them, and between one blink and another, they’re in the club’s bathrooms.

Namjoon is unceremoniously pushed back against the locked door, chuckling breathlessly as teeth bite at his shoulder. Fingers fumble at his belt, undoing the button of his trousers and tugging to lower the stubborn zipper.

“ _Fuck_ —”

And then Hyunwoo is lowering himself to his knees, big hands pulling on the beltloops of Namjoon’s trousers to lower them to mid-thigh, coming face-to-face with Namjoon’s cotton-covered bulge. Licking his lips, he looks up straight into Namjoon’s eyes, and they both shudder when lips press against heated skin.

Mouthing at Namjoon’s soft tummy, Hyunwoo slides his hands over Namjoon’s thighs, up and back, ending their exploring quest at Namjoon’s ass where they cup the supple flesh and _squeeze_ , pinkies hooking into the straps of the jockstrap.

“D’you like it?” asks Namjoon, quirking an eyebrow when Hyunwoo reverently traces the happy trail that leads from his bellybutton to the elastic band of his underwear.

Hyunwoo hums in acknowledgement, sending little sparks of fire into Namjoon’s bloodstream as heat accumulates deep in his belly, pooling behind his navel. “Do I like _what_?” he teases, voice hoarse. Namjoon’s fingers slide into his blond hair, grabbing onto the damp curls gently.

“The _underwear_ , you mean b—”

Biting the thin skin of Namjoon’s hip in retaliation, Hyunwoo exhales a small chuckle: “Mn, like it a lot.” And he nuzzles his cheek into Namjoon’s cock, warm breath brushing over the soaked cotton. “Also like _you_ —”

“Stop _teasing_ —,” groans Namjoon, head thunking back against the door. The menace in front of him ignores him, pupils blown wide and cheeks pink.

“Wouldn’t dare,” says Hyunwoo, because he’s a lying liar who lies.

Impatient and eager, Namjoon briskly decides to take matters into his own hands and one-handedly frees himself from where he’s straining against his jockstrap. The feeling of his sweaty palm on his painfully hard cock has him moaning obscenely, and Hyunwoo feels compelled to take over, wanting to be the one to tease those sounds from his partner.

He puts his mouth to good use, dragging his lower lip over the underside of Namjoon’s cock a few times until he reaches the head, tonguing at the slit with tantalising nonchalance, unhurried but thorough. Biting back a curse, Namjoon bucks his hips almost involuntarily, but Hyunwoo, having none of it, grunts and pushes Namjoon’s pelvis back with his forearm, keeping him securely pressed against the door.

“ _Stay_ ,” he commands gruffly, and Namjoon is about to snappishly retort about how _exactly_ he feels about being ordered about like _that_ , when Hyunwoo stops mucking around and swallows him down to the root without any other preamble and no preceding warning.

For a split second in time, any and all coherent thoughts flee from Namjoon’s head and all he can hear is white noise.

He blinks away the thin film of tears blurring his vision, trying to focus on something else than Hyunwoo’s delicious heat engulfing him because otherwise this is going to be over _very_ fast, and that’s no fun for anyone involved.

The music, distorted and muted through the bathroom’s heavy door, pales in comparison to the duet that are the filthy wet sounds of Hyunwoo’s mouth on Namjoon’s cock and the waterfall of moans and whines Namjoon’s unable to supress.

“Fuck, your _mouth_ — Christ, takin’ me so well, aren’tcha? Made for me, made for this— _ah_ , yes, do that again, nggghhhplease, pleaseplease _please_ — been thinkin’ ‘bout this since you kissed me— oh my g— _mother of fuck_ , you’re gonna be the death of me—”

_So mouthy._

“Y’ know, I like you like this— _ah_ , fuck— on your knees in front of me, what a vision— oh my God, that’s so good, you’re so g— _oh_ , nnnghhh—”

_So loud_.

“An’ you can’t gimme lip like this, can you; so much attitude in you— yesyes _yes_ , oh _Christ_ — mouth too busy suckin’ me so well, can’t reprimand me—”

_So cheeky._

_~~Too cheeky?~~ _

Casually deepthroating Namjoon and without interrupting the rhythmical bobbing of his head, Hyunwoo reaches up with the hand that’s not massaging Namjoon’s balls and lifts Namjoon’s shirt upup _up_ , pushing the fabric between Namjoon’s parted lips and keeping it there until Namjoon inevitably bites down, clamping the cloth between his teeth and consequently muffling all of his lewd expletives.

He comes up for air briefly: “Atta boy,” he grins, patting Namjoon’s thigh in approval.

Too turned-on to feel offended, Namjoon groans mutedly at the playful praise and looks down at Hyunwoo. Their eyes meet, feverish hunger reflecting in each other’s pupils; twin shivers crawl down their spines, and for a few long seconds, they simply stare at each other, glassy-eyed and dazed.

The spell breaks when Hyunwoo smiles fondly and Namjoon immediately returns the gesture through the fabric bunched in his mouth, petting Hyunwoo’s hair gently as both of his hands remain buried in the blond curls.

Leaning into the touch — and looking not entirely unlike a puppy —, Hyunwoo reaches between Namjoon’s legs and taps a fingernail on the bejewelled base of the silicon plug that’s been buried in Namjoon’s ass for _hours_ now; both men still completely, holding their breath in anticipation.

Namjoon’s entire body jolts when a knowing smile curls Hyunwoo’s bruised lips and he slowly pulls on the plug, starting to use the toy to fuck into Namjoon properly as he angles it _just right_ , looking for that one specific spot that makes Namjoon’s toes curl. If it weren’t for the makeshift gag muffling his voice, the entire goddamn club would probably be able to hear Namjoon cursing up a storm as his prostate is stimulated time and time again.

The heat coiling tight behind Namjoon’s navel and between his hips becomes almost too much, an elastic stretched to its limit and on the verge of snapping, and the sensation keeps growing and growing with every single second that passes.

He tries to warn Hyunwoo of his impending climax, tugging on his hair to no avail and babbling incoherently, thighs tensed so much they twitch visibly. Ignoring his warnings, Hyunwoo keeps licking sloppily at his cock, relentless and clearly determined to make Namjoon moan as loudly as humanly possible through the makeshift gag.

His vision blurs and goes unfocused, and in that moment nothing matters but Hyunwoo on his knees in front of him, lips stretched wide and tight around his cock; nothing matters but the way he’s sticking out his tongue, looking like a right mess just begging to be ruined even further; nothing matters but the personification of sin at his feet, the obscene wet dream come to life gazing up at him through wet eyelashes.

Namjoon finally loses it; he comes with a muted shout into Hyunwoo’s open mouth, folding into himself as his orgasm wracks his entire body and he clenches down on the plug.

Hyunwoo sucks him through it and well into oversensitivity before Namjoon has the mind to tap out, whining softly as he pats Hyunwoo’s head to ease him off his spent cock.

With a self-satisfied little smirk, Hyunwoo licks at the corners of his lips to make sure there’s no cum left there and then pushes himself upright, bracing his hands on Namjoon’s hips. His knees crack, but they both ignore it easily, too deeply immersed in each other.

“Good?” he asks, voice so rough he has to clear his throat a couple of times before it sounds just slightly less like he completely forwent his gag-reflex during the blowjob he just gave Namjoon, which is incidentally what happened. Tucking Namjoon back into his jockstrap neatly, Hyunwoo tugs on the fabric still clamped between Namjoon’s teeth and chuckles when it takes Namjoon a few seconds to unclench his jaw, obediently dropping the ruined shirt. There’s drool all over it and it’s terribly wrinkly, but who gives a fuck about a messy shirt when they’ve just had their brains sucked out through their dick?

“Gimme a sec to gather my wits about me,” says Namjoon eloquently, still panting. Hyunwoo sniggers in respond and presses a kiss to Namjoon’s fluttering pulsepoint, right under his jaw.

“You’re trembling,” murmurs the blond man, carefully hooking his fingers into Namjoon’s beltloops and pulling the also-rumpled trousers up to his hips, going as far as zipping him back up and even doing his button, ever-so-helpful and as gentlemanly as one can get after giving head in a club’s lavatories.

“An’ whose fault is that, exactly?”

“ _All mine~_ ,” sing-songs Hyunwoo, and Namjoon gently pushes him away with a snort, waddling over to the big mirror hanging above the bathroom sinks.

“You really did a number on me, hm?” says Namjoon, trying to smooth out his shirt and tucking it back into the waistband of his trousers, still a bit glassy-eyed. “Jesus Christ, I look like someone _mauled_ me.”

Wrapped around him like a particularly cuddly octopus, Hyunwoo hums in satisfaction, meeting Namjoon’s eyes in the mirror. There’s smugness hidden in the upwards curl of his mouth, right at the corner of his swollen lips, and his obvious arousal presses hotly against Namjoon’s behind, practically nestled between his cheeks.

Shaking his head slightly, Namjoon chuckles and fastens his belt, giving himself a once-over in the mirror. With a nod of approval, he extricates himself from Hyunwoo’s backhug and turns around to face him.

“C’mon—”

With a smile, Namjoon entwines his fingers with his husband’s, and starts to pull him towards the exit, away from this place.

“Let’s go home.”

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit i was /this/ close to exploding. wolfi-dear, keeping secrets from you is . . . excruciatingly hard 
> 
> i hope you liked it!!! ♥♥♥
> 
> find me on your [local hellsite](https://twitter.com/yellingukelele) just for funsies uwu
> 
> for all of you wondering about blond hyunie, let me bless you with [this visual](https://twitter.com/mohaesus/status/1256966725087576064?s=20). you're welcome uwu


End file.
